A/N: Art by Yoshitaka Amano.
'Are you going to walk around like that?'
I glance towards Hadrian as he interrupts my mission. Mercer has finally finished retching, so I'm using the time to empty the Ferryman's remains before he can start again. I'm bending over the boat, wondering whether to capsize it or pick out the remains.
'Like what?' I reply. Capsizing it would be quicker, I decide, stroking my forehead absent-mindedly. If I were to fish out each of the Ferryman's bone fragments, he might find himself in Elysium missing a toe.
'In your underwear...'
I grab the sides of the boat, but not before I send him a is-that-really-all-you-can-think-about look. I'm not sure I portrayed it very well, though- he stares at me like I'm speaking in morse code.
'Hadrian!' I snap, 'Help me!'
He blinks, and then hurries into action, joining me at the dock and squatting to reach the boat. Together we roll it onto its side, and the Ferryman's body starts to move.
'Push harder,' I instruct, but I catch him watching me.
'I don't know where to look, for God's sake!' he cried, punching the boat in confusion. It heaves heavily before rolling over, and I hear the rewarding ploshhh as the Ferryman's body is carried away.
'It's fine, he's gone now,' I say reassuringly, but Hadrian frowns.
'I meant you!'
'Oh, how sweet of you. Unfortunately I am a married woman.'
'No, damn you, you're showing a lot of- of-'
Finished with the boat, I stand and glare down at him, my hands on my hips.
'Listen, macho. I don't care what masculine society you're from, but the only thing sexual about my underwear is your perception of it. Grow the fuck up, and learn that I'm not putting that bloody dress back on so you can feel better about your wandering eyes. Are we clear? Good. Let's go.'
I step off the platform with a toss of my knotted hair, and nearly fall over Mercer, still in a heap on the floor.
'Where are we going?' he sniffs.
'To find my so-called husband, of course. Now I've got to add ignorant bounty hunters onto my list of things I dislike about him and his Underworld.'
Hadrian chuckles behind me, so I give him a snarl.
'Do you find this funny?'
Mercer physically cowers at my feet, and I try hard not to roll my eyes for the hundredth time.
Hadrian's smirk increases. 'Actually, I do. I've just been schooled about underwear, yet you need my help finding the palace.'
'Palace?' Mercer murmurs. 'We're looking for a palace now?'
'Mercer,' I sigh, losing my patience, 'You're supposed to be my guide. Can you at least make it seem like I need your help when I meet my husband? He's the Lord of the Underworld. Where do you think he lives, in a stable?'
'I'm trying to understand! I didn't have the advantage of planning my wedding and death for years!'
The three of us stand at odds from one another, Hadrian looking from me to Mercer and back again. His expression is nonplussed. 'You wanted to be the Bride?'
'Yes,' I say shortly. I don't elaborate- my trust in Hadrian is only skin deep. He might be a handsome rogue that could probably charm the information out of me, but the more he thinks I'm a besotted bride of Death, the better.
It was a shame my companion didn't have the same thoughts.
'She's planned this since she was thirteen, isn't that crazy? She's stayed a virgin for revenge.'
'Mercer,' I breathe, 'I have no qualms throwing you in that river with the Ferryman if you keep talking. Now, how do we get to the palace?'
I direct my last question at Hadrian, who is trying to look as disinterested as he can, but failing to. I can see the curiosity in his eyes when he sets them on me, thinking.
'There is another way into the King's grounds, but it's tricky.'
'How?'
'There's a bridge. Further down.'
'And why do you look so uncomfortable telling us?'
Hadrian looks away. 'It's guarded. Heavily.'
Mercer gulps. 'By what? Please, please not zombies. I hate zombies...'
'Zombies don't work for the Death Lord,' Hadrian replies vaguely. He's looking downstream of the river, the direction we must have to head to reach the bridge. I follow his eyes, seeing only the sloping hills of the Underworld, a barren world of sand, rock, and water.
'What does?' Mercer and I ask. The difference is, I say it like I'm asking the weather. Mercer, in the other hand, speaks in a squeak.
'You won't be able to get past,' Hadrian insists. I see him lick his dry lips, eyes darting from my face, and back upstream. His reaction quells any fear I have of this guardian. If Hadrian's afraid of it, I want to see what it is.
'Take us,' I command, 'it's downstream, right? You haven't stopped looking down that way since I asked.'
Hadrian sighs, running a hand through his hair in distress. 'You're not going to take my advice, are you? No matter what I say, you're going to try and cross the bridge.'
'I have to find my husband.'
He looks at me sceptically, and even Mercer snorts. Apparently, they don't think I'm the domestic type.
'I'll take you to the bridge,' Hadrian agrees, but his mouth is an upturned frown. 'I refuse to help you get past, though. From there, you're on your own.'
'Seconded,' Mercer says. 'I'll go with him. He seems to still have his survival instinct intact, unlike you, Nerissa.'
I look at him coldly as I begin to lead the way. It wasn't my survival that had brought me down here. Survival now would be ironic.
--
We follow the river through the Underworld, joining along the way with its tributaries. The further we travel, the more the false sun seems to sink lower into the sky, and the larger the river becomes. The waters are less calm and more rapid, deadly, threatening to sweep all who fall into it into the realms beyond. We find no more Ferrymen, but Hadrian remains alert and tense, patrolling ahead of us and doubling back, in rotations.
After I stretch my cramping calves for the fifth time, I almost admit defeat in finding the bridge. Hadrian is nearby, and I can feel his eyes on me once more. When I look his way, he pretends to be interested in the river, but I know he's waiting for me to give in.
So I don't. I continue to walk, feeling the blisters bursting on the soles of my feet.
A whisper comes into my ear. 'Don't you think we should take his advice?'
I turn and fix my gaze on Mercer, several steps behind my striding pace. His eyes are urgently scanning over my expression, and I see him sag in disappointment when I shake my head.
'I must find him, Mercer,' I say, and for once, the look I give him isn't patronising or angry. The look is plain, simple, and desperate.
Mercer sees my pleading face. 'What's going on, Nerissa?'
His tone is low, puzzled.
I bite my lip. Hadrian is watching our exchange carefully, but he can't hear it above the river. So I say, quickly, 'If the Lord of the Underworld didn't bring my brother back from the dead, who did?'
Before Mercer can answer, I jump as I spot the makings of great bridge, carved across the river, and joining the bank in an elaborate sweep. We approach it quickly, the iron castings that reach out towards us as railings old and creaking. Ahead, a dense fog obliterates any sense of depth beyond the steps of the bridge, and causing the river to disappear into a line. We can't see what's guarding the bridge, but Hadrian knows.
'This is as far as the Underworld goes,' he says, 'this is the edge. The river becomes a waterfall; there's no coming back. The bridge leads to the other side- to where the King of the Underworld lives.'
Suddenly, I'm nervous. Beyond this bridge is my husband.
And, regardless of solving the mystery of Nate, living beyond the bridge would be where I stayed for all eternity.
I concentrate on not taking a step back.
To my surprise, a hand meets the small of my back; it's only a fingertip, but I must have moved a fraction away instinctively. Hadrian is staring down at me, his eyes a swirling mass of blue and questions. He isn't stopping me from running away.
He's telling me he's right behind me.
'Thank you,' I whisper, and I move an inch away from his reach, so that my toe is brushing the first step.
But for some reason, my eyes are locked with Hadrian's, and I don't want to leave him. There's something so alluring about him, so challenging.
And, let's face it, I apparently had a thing for dark-haired guys, because for the first time in my life I was having flashes of running my nails through his hair, and across the stubble on his jaw...
Oh Gods, am I blushing?
'Nerissa,' he calls, and I feel my mouth go dry.
I'm not blushing. I think I've burst every blood vessel in my face I'm turning that red and hot.
'Y-yes?'
'He'll kill you,' Hadrian whispers, and I see fear in his eyes. The hand that left my back is trembling, still reaching out to me.
I take it. I curl my fingers around his, noting how cold his skin is to touch.
I smile. I feel the muscles in my face remembering how to do it, and then I beam, feeling quite giddy at the feeling of our hands together.
'I'm already dead,' I reply, and I let go of his hand, turning away from the man at the foot of the steps. Behind me, Mercer- despite his earlier reservations- follows my lead as I step regally up the stairs of the bridge. Hadrian's eyes are on me as I disappear into the mist, and by the time I glance back, all I can see is swirling grey.
As I walk, I realise I don't know who Hadrian had been referring to. Would the guard try to kill me?
Or my husband?
--
A/N: Soooo....what do you think of their route to the King, and who is the mysterious guard on the bridge? How will Nerissa get past them without being killed....or is her husband waiting to kill her?!
Sorry for the short(er) chapter this week. Things are manic busy approaching exams, and I'm on a placement far away that is draining my time and energy :/ I fell asleep trying to write this chapter LAST night...
Larissa xx